


The Legend of Ganon

by SashaWren



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Child Ganondorf, F/F, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gen, Gerudo Culture, Headcanon, Long, Ocarina of Time, POV Ganondorf, Retelling, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaWren/pseuds/SashaWren
Summary: Something is stirring within the land...a land that is becoming more and more known as Hyrule as the King of the Hylians wishes to unify it under his rule. If he does not get what he wants, he will fight for it, and the many denizens of this land will fight back. Amidst all of the political unrest, hidden forces are at work that only the wisest of scholars and sorcerers could understand, hidden forces that will produce a truth-seeking warmonger, a heroic impostor, a shaman of legendary lineage, and the first Gerudo man to be born in a thousand years. What will become of this man who was born in the middle of a brewing rebellion, who may just be through no will of his own the most powerful individual in the land?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Nintendo has always made it clear through its Zelda installments that the world is to be thought of broadly. Each new Zelda tale exists in its own little universe, each new storyteller adding her own flair. Think of the tale of "Ocarina of Time" as a stained-glass window myth of what really happened in a more fleshed-out Hyrule with more cultures, political strife, and deep secrets no one dares confront save for a brave few. Also think of the legendary Ganondorf Dragmire, one who in the eyes of many sought nothing but dominance over the world. What did he truly want, and what decisions and environmental factors led him to his ultimate fate as the hero's adversary, the Demon King Ganon?
> 
> This story is intended for more mature readers, who enjoy thinking about very real issues in fictional worlds. My Hyrule is not at all canon, and I tend to think of everything in the canon as more of a loose guideline to how things happened. There are references to sexual relationships and abuse, as well as racial and gender based issues. Please read at your own risk!

14th of Hylia’s Light in the Year of the Goddess 1804

Ildrin gazed down at the tiny bundle held firmly in King Daltus’ arms with a tight-lipped smile. The baby wasn’t squirming or putting up any fuss, eyes closed off to the world around them. And as happy as Ildrin felt concerning the birth of the new princess, she knew her joy was a result of her own baby boy left safely behind at her estate not far beyond the city walls. As much as she trusted her midwife and faithful servant Lanna, she hadn’t wanted to leave him. But Cedric told her it would be disrespectful to not join him at the princess’ private viewing, especially when her presence was requested by the Queen. So Ildrin let Lanna tighten a stiff corset around her torso and drape a gown of pale lavender over her body. Purple was, after all, the Queen’s favorite color.

So as Ildrin stood to Cedric’s left, watching the proud King cradle his newborn daughter in his large, thick arms, she thought of her own boy, and how it felt to hold him against her breast. She knew how the King felt, but also knew how Queen Petra felt as she stood rigidly behind her husband, gazing intently at her baby girl. She could not hold her child at this moment, just as Ildrin could not hold hers.

Cedric stepped up to the King and bent to one knee, ducking his head in a respectful bow.

“Cedric,” said King Daltus, a warm smile curling beneath his thick brown mustache. “How wonderful of you to join us.”

Cedric stood and turned his eyes to the princess. “She’s lovely, sire.”

The King muttered his thanks, and Ildrin took the time to step up and lift her dress’s hem in a bow. It was customary for the wives of invitees to move second to their husbands. Ildrin often wondered how the traditions that put women second to men came about, considering the significance placed upon a female heir to the throne. But she’d never spoken to anyone of her thoughts, not even Lanna. She dipped her head toward the Queen.

“Lady Ildrin,” said the tall woman, straight brown hair tucked behind delicately pointed ears. She was wearing a gown of purple and silver, and a thin gold tiara rested lightly atop her forehead. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, my queen,” said Ildrin. “From one mother to another, I give you my most sincere congratulations.”

“Ah, yes,” King Daltus said, turning to Cedric again. “You have recently become a father yourself, haven’t you?”

“That is correct, sire,” Cedric said, his own green eyes shining with an indescribable amount of joy and pride. “A healthy boy.”

“Wonderful,” said Daltus. “It must be quite a prosperous season.”

“Hopefully it will last,” said Petra. Ildrin cast a long glance at her, blue eyes widened slightly beneath her golden-yellow eyebrows. The Queen’s tone was hopeful, but with a hint of somberness that made Ildrin’s heartbeat quicken. It was no secret, however, that the Royal Family had plenty on their minds despite the wonderful news of a female heir. It was a difficult time for everyone who stood there beneath the high ceiling of the castle’s parlor. The heavy pall of tension hung over their heads, dragged relentlessly at the smiles on their faces. It was one of the main reasons why Ildrin did not want to leave her son back in the manor while they spent the evening in the castle. And as Petra said her words, Ildrin knew in that moment that despite all gallant appearances and joy-filled conversations, the regal Queen was just as frightened as she was.

“Let’s not have that kind of talk, dear,” King Daltus said, looking down at his daughter with warm blue eyes. Every direct descendant of the first members of the Royal Family had vivid blue eyes, no matter what other features they displayed. They contrasted the pale brown of Petra’s, who once belonged to a house of nobility in the distant city of Farheln. She was Hylian, though, and that was the only true requirement for becoming queen of the Royal Family.

As it stood, the terms “king” and “queen” were not all too accurate. The kingdom expanded a few hours’ walk in each direction: Kakariko Village to the north, Lon Lon Ranch to the southeast across the river, and Lake Hylia to the west. There was more to the land—much more. But upon sending scouts past the familiar landmarks, the Hylians found that the rest of the land was inhabited by a whole array of species, several of them humanoid. One race resembled the Hylians completely, save for their rounded ears. They called their homeland by many different names, depending on the species and tribe. And centuries later, King Daltus planned on unifying the country under one banner: the Kingdom of Hyrule under his command.

Someone shouted loudly outside the parlor entryway. The people inside turned their heads in unison to see a Hylian guard stumble in, armor clanking noisily with every fumbling step. “Your Highness!” he called, voice muffled from behind the shielded helmet atop his head.

King Daltus passed the princess delicately over to her mother, who took her with an apprehensive smile. “What is the meaning of this?” he said, tone not angry but not pleased either.

“Forgive me, sire,” said the guard, breath coming in short gasps from his climb up the hill to the castle. “Rebels, in Castle Town.”

Rebels, Ildrin thought. That’s what anyone fighting for unification called them. Ildrin herself was born and raised in Castle Town, but in the lower-class district of Falden which was inhabited mostly by round-ears with the occasional Goron or Zora family. Most of the Hylians of Castle Town lived in the much more beautified districts, without starving children in the streets.

“Rebels?” Daltus said in contemplation. After a moment, he turned to the many well-dressed Hylian men around him. “You have a duty to your king, and to your city. Cedric.” He turned to Ildrin’s husband. “I trust as a blacksmith you have apt ability with a sword.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” Cedric said.

“We cannot let the rebels reach the castle,” Daltus continued. Ildrin noticed a hint of primal, fatherly determination in his eyes as he stepped forward. “They must have planned for my daughter’s viewing. They cannot get to her.”

Ildrin turned to Cedric. “You must fight?” she said quietly.

“I cannot leave now,” he said. “But you have to return home. Make sure our boy is safe.” Ildrin nodded, brow furrowed slightly. Cedric brushed a yellow lock of hair behind her pointed ear and kissed her forehead. “Ride safely.”

Ildrin regarded him solemnly. She wanted to tell him to fight safely, to not do anything foolishly “honorable.” He had a son to think about now. But she only watched him as he followed the other men out of the castle parlor.

“I suppose the official announcement has been cancelled,” Queen Petra said as she looked anxiously at her husband. Daltus simply gave her an apologetic look before striding out of the room, following his men.

Ildrin walked over to Petra slowly and gazed down at the princess. “She needs no announcement,” she said with a comforting smile to the Queen. “Her name is already known to all in the land, whether their ears are sharp or round.”

“It’s true, Your Grace,” another woman said, stepping up. “Even those who worship a false pantheon know the significance of your daughter’s birth.”

Petra looked down at her tiny child, whose large blue eyes had peeked open from the commotion. She smiled warmly, eyes crinkling at the edges. “My little Zelda,” she whispered.

Ildrin rode out of the castle grounds alone, leaving Cedric’s horse behind for him to make it back later. Moving swiftly, she skirted the edges of Castle Town as surreptitiously as possible; it wasn’t as difficult as she’d imagine, since nearly all of the fighting must have been occurring in the lower-class districts of the city. It was easy enough to guide her steed through the back alleys of the market and across the drawbridge without being detected. It would have made more tactical sense to ride through Castle Town and exit through the west gate, but she couldn’t risk encountering the rebels. She had to make it home to her son.

She reached the estate quickly enough and dismounted just inside the gate so one of the servants could take the horse to the stables. Ildrin walked briskly to the front doors, waiting anxiously as Ranji, the doorman, opened it.

“Lady Ildrin,” the short man said, black hair emphasizing his slightly darkened skin. He was by no means purely Hylian. “You’re back so soon.” He looked behind her. “And without Lord Cedric.”

“Fighting has broken out in the city,” Ildrin said, breathing heavily. “Where is Lanna?”

“Upstairs with the baby,” said the doorman. He closed the door as Ildrin hurried inside. She couldn’t quite place it, but worry settled deeply in her throat. She strode across the wide foyer and climbed the open staircase to the open second floor. She turned to the right and entered the nursery in a flustered daze. 

“My lady!” Lanna gasped, holding the baby to her chest instinctively.

Ildrin walked over and took the baby into her arms. She stared down at his pale face, mushy with newborn fat. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, nostrils flaring gently with each breath.  
Ildrin smiled, releasing a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry, Lanna,” she said, still looking at her son. “The announcement was cancelled. Some Dinborn rebels attacked Castle Town.”

Lanna, an image of messy dark brown hair and hyperbolic exaggeration, held both hands to her open mouth with wide eyes. “No!”

Ildrin seemed infinitely calmer now that her son was in her arms. “Cedric went with to fend them off,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“And what about the princess?” Lanna said.

“She is with the Queen,” said Ildrin. “She is quite a beautiful child.”

Lanna let a smile perk her expression. “So you saw her! Oh, how blessed you are. Hopefully the fighting won’t reach the castle. Or here, for that matter. With Lord Cedric gone, we don’t stand a chance.”

“As I said, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

It was a white lie, Ildrin knew. She sensed she was living in one of the darkest times of the Royal Family’s history. Of course, being of higher class after marrying Cedric, she didn’t have to worry about the same consequences of war that those in her home district of Falden did. But with her son in her arms, she saw a brighter future past all this fighting. It was only in that moment however that she realized there wasn’t much hope in staying where she was. Castle Town was the center of all conflict now, and if she wanted her child to prosper, she’d have to leave.

“My lady,” Lanna said. “Would you like me to make some dinner?”

“That would be lovely,” Ildrin said. “Thank you.”

The young round-eared girl nodded and stepped out of the room. Ildrin took a seat on the padded chair beside her son’s cradle, head swimming with new thoughts of the young Hylian princess. Her name had been determined for her long before King Daltus was even born, let alone Ildrin herself. Every female heir received the name Zelda, just as much as they received their bright blue eyes. The legends told that the first Zelda was the mortal reincarnation of their goddess, their heavenly mother Hylia, who sacrificed her own immortality for the salvation of her people. Although she’d never admit it out loud, Ildrin thought it was a little far-fetched. Anyone claiming to be the reincarnation of a god was probably looking for power. But her Hylian ancestors followed Zelda faithfully, leading to the establishment of a Royal Family.

The tradition followed that every female heir was to be named Zelda in her honor, with the belief and hope that she would be another incarnation of the mortal goddess. It had been tradition for nearly five centuries now, after the first ordained Queen of the Hylian people. It was another aspect of the Hylian faith that Ildrin didn’t seem to put much weight on, since there had been many Royal Family princesses that did not seem to bear the wisdom associated with the namesake. But something about the circumstances caused something to glimmer in Ildrin’s heart. Especially as she gazed down at her little boy, a thin veil of blond hair coating his soft head. For another legend accompanied that of the princess, the legend of the Hero of Time. It said that the two would return to the world at its darkest hour. And if Ildrin believed anything, it was that the land was certainly in need of a hero.

“Lady Ildrin,” Lanna said from the doorway. Ildrin hadn’t noticed her return. “Your dinner is ready.”

“So quickly?” Ildrin said.

“We had everything prepared to be cooked for when you and Lord Cedric returned,” said the servant warmly. “It didn’t take too long.”

Ildrin stood from her chair, placed her son into the cradle beside it, and stepped into the corridor where Lanna was waiting patiently. "Thank you, Lanna," she said. "Please look over my son while I’m dining."

“Of course, Lady Ildrin,” Lanna said, bowing and stepping into the nursery. But she turned suddenly before closing the door. “My lady, if you don’t mind me asking…” Ildrin paused and turned to her maid. “Have you chosen a name for the boy?”

Ildrin smiled lightly. “I shouldn’t make a decision without my husband’s input, but I do have an idea.”

Lanna nodded with a wide smile. “I do look forward to hearing his name spoken out loud for the first time. Forgive my prying, my lady.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ildrin replied. “As soon as I speak with Cedric on the matter, I’ll let you know promptly.”

“Thank you very much, my lady. I appreciate it.” Lanna bowed her head one last time and closed the door behind her.

Upon entering the dining hall, Ildrin was surprised to see a young man waiting by her seat at the table. He looked terrified, cheeks red from the wind and a look of pure fright in his glassy eyes. “Am I to understand that my doorman has let you in to see me at my own dining table?”

“Yes, Lady Ildrin,” the messenger said. “Terribly sorry for intruding. Lord Ganondorf…sends his condolences.”

Ildrin did not sit down. The name was terribly familiar. “Lord Ganondorf?”

“He is the leader of the Gerudo people,” the messenger said shakily. “He was in town for the princess’s announcement tonight.”

“Yes, of course,” Ildrin said. “What condolences, exactly?”

The messenger bowed his head deeply. “That is my message, my lady. The fighting has reached the castle, and it is slowly making its way toward your estate and the surrounding districts of Castle Town. Lord Cedric tried to battle off many of the rebels, but sadly, his attempts failed.” He paused, giving Ildrin a chance to contemplate the news. He looked conflicted, as if he did not want to utter his next words. “Lord Ganondorf fought off and killed the man who murdered your husband, and had me send the news.”

Ildrin stood there for a minute, eyes never leaving the messenger’s fraught expression but thoughts never leaving her late husband and newborn son. Her jaw had set, and her brow furrowed, but she never let any other emotion aside from what looked like slight distaste reveal itself on her face. After another moment, she cleared her throat. “Thank you. I would have you help yourself to a meal in the kitchen before you leave, but you may find it more appropriate to join your family as soon as possible.”

The young man bowed his head, looking relieved. “Of course, Lady Ildrin. Thank you.” He departed to follow Ranji down the corridor.

Ildrin then collapsed into the seat before a covered dinner plate. She rested her face in her open palm, eyes still wide, feeling the raw ache of sadness clawing at her ribcage. Just as she started thinking about hope and prosperity for Hyrule, one of the most important people in her life vanished.

But she had to clear her head. The messenger mentioned that the battle was gradually making its way toward her estate, an estate that now belonged to a helpless infant who at the moment was sleeping soundly in the nursery, unaware that his father was now a part of another realm.

Without another moment's hesitation, Ildrin stumbled out of the dining hall and up the stairs to her son’s room. She opened the door to see Lanna placing the child back in his cradle.  
“My lady,” Lanna said. “Are you finished your meal already?”

“Cedric is dead,” Ildrin breathed, surprised at the shakiness in her voice. Lanna’'s lips parted in silent shock. “A messenger came from the castle. Lanna, we must gather up the servants and leave this place.”

“Are we in danger?” Lanna asked.

“Yes,” Ildrin said, rushing toward her baby. “The fighting is making its way toward the manor and we must get away immediately. Inform the others of our escape and I’ll see to my child.” Lanna nodded, eyes widened with incredulity, and disappeared out of the room.

Ildrin gathered the slumbering child in her arms, gazing down at his smooth face. “My dear boy,” she whispered, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes. But before she could mourn her child’s future any longer, there was a loud noise from downstairs. Ildrin heard raucous shouting outside, another bang from downstairs. The rebels were here, and they were attempting to break down the door.

Quickly, Ildrin wound her child in multiple layers of cloth and placed him back inside his cradle. She rushed to her own wardrobe and searched frantically for a riding cloak. Once she found the dark navy garment, she swung it around her shoulders, collected her baby, and hurried downstairs.

“Lanna, Ranji, do you have the others?" Ildrin said.

“They are gathering their things, my lady,” Lanna said, looking as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

“Good,” Ildrin said under her breath. The souls she had to account for were already enough. She rushed toward Lanna, holding her baby to her chest. “Lanna, I need you to listen to me.” The maidservant held her breath, nodding vigorously. “You and Ranji must take the others away from Castle Town. Set up camp in the Field if you must. But please promise me that you will leave this house, and Castle Town, behind you.”

Lanna blinked, frozen by the immense task set before her. “What about you?”

“I have to take my son far from the reaches of this place,” Ildrin said. “He is not safe here, and I cannot bring him up in the wilderness. We need to find a new home.”

Lanna’s eyes brimmed. “Lady Ildrin, it’s a madhouse out there!” she said. “I can’t let you travel alone.”

“You needn’t worry about me, Lanna,” Ildrin said. “I will take my horse and we will flee this place. Promise me you will leave with the others!”

Lanna clamped her mouth shut for a moment, face set in an expression of frustration and terror. “I promise,” she finally said. 

Ildrin kissed the maid’s forehead and turned on her heel. She made her way for the stables to find the horse she’d ridden to the castle hours before. Ildrin saddled and bridled the creature before a loud creaking sound came from her right. She turned swiftly, clutching her now awakened and wailing son to her torso.

“A lady!” came a hiss from above. 

“And a fine one too.” Many cackling men stalked into the stable, clutching swords and shields and wearing makeshift tabards of deep red. For a horrifying moment Ildrin thought it was due to the blood of those they’d killed. She backed away from them as another man with bow and arrow jumped down from a hole in the stable roof, landing just behind the new mother. They snickered to themselves, planning something terrible in their small, grungy heads. Ildrin thought of the child held tightly to her breast and was filled with a new determination. Resolute on getting her son out of the town, she swiftly mounted the horse and pulled the reins taught. The horse bucked and whined, kicking its front hooves out from underneath it. The men dodged the shoed hooves, crying out in frustration. With skilled practice, Ildrin tugged on the reins and sent the steed galloping out of the stable. She had just barely made it around a bale of hay when a sharp pain erupted from her left lung, spreading through her entire torso. One of the men had shot an arrow in her direction, piercing through her back.

Gritting her teeth, Ildrin rode on, down the path that led east. They galloped as the baby started letting out a fierce caterwaul of discomfort. Ildrin tried to keep her torso as still as possible, a difficult task atop a galloping horse. She barely had enough consciousness to notice the cracking thunder above her head and the spitting rain from the clouds. The drops masked the tears that fell from Ildrin’s face as she spared glances down at her squirming, crying baby. But she gritted her teeth and rode on, all the way across Hyrule Field until night began to settle in the province.

For fear of the strange men following her, Ildrin directed her horse deep into the woods. She paid no attention to the howling wolfos in the distance, or the strange, glowing yellow lights that peered at her from the darkness between the trees. They could not harm her if she was quick enough. On and on they rode, until her horse’s strength wore down as well as her own. As they slowed to a stop, the weakened mother lost grip on the reins and saddle and tumbled to the ground; thankfully, she thought, she still had enough in her to protect her son from suffering any damage.

The baby lay in his bundle, crying, and now soaking wet. Ildrin lay beside him, watching his every move with a motherly intensity. Rain drops filtered through the thick forest canopy, splattering against her cheek, but she couldn’t feel it. She felt numb.

Suddenly a gentle light consumed the darkness. Ildrin would have looked up to see its source, but her eyes would not leave the boy.

“You are Hylian, from the city.”

Ildrin closed her eyes. The voice was calm and peaceful, and she feared it was a product of the delusions of the dead. Reason told her that no one stood before her except for the silent, hidden spirits of the trees.

“Yes,” she said shakily.

“I am Maia,” came the same voice, a voice Ildrin determined to be from one of the enormous trees surrounding her. “I watch over and protect the Kokiri Forest. I will not harm you.”

“Please,” Ildrin croaked, placing a hand over her son’s wet bundle, “whoever you are. If you watch over this forest, then watch over my son, Link.”

The voice made no response for several fearful moments. Ildrin felt sobs wrack her body. Her eyes fluttered as a numb darkness spread through her mind.

“Yes,” Maia finally said, “I will watch over the Hero of Time reborn.” Ildrin’s eyes closed, and she faded into a wakeless sleep.


	2. The Birth of a King I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ralzana/Ralzan" - the royal leader of the Gerudo people.  
> "Vai" and "voe" are terms reserved for people looking to find a mate and have children. When a Gerudo woman is referred to as a vai, that means she wishes to leave the desert in search of a mate.  
> Think of Skyward Sword's vague geography.

28 years earlier…

5th of Stormfall in the Year of the Goddess 1776

Ezerella Loradime stood atop the sentry tower, gazing out over the immense valley with no more excitement than a salmon returning to freshwater. Taking up such a dull job was simply the only way of life for a lower-class Gerudo peasant like her. She hadn’t really had a say in the matter. She simply woke up one day and received her orders from her district’s overseer, then made her way across the extensive desert—a two-hour trip on horseback—to where the sand met the eastern mountain ridge and assumed her position as a sentry.

The view was nice though. She stood alone at the top of a shaded tower, gazing at the small, yet soaring turrets of the Hylian castle. She imagined the city beneath it, Castle Town, bustling with beautiful women, mysterious men, playful children with their toys and games of hide-and-seek. Not that she would ever imagine leaving; she had a mother and sister whom she loved dearly and would not leave for the world. Still, her heart ached for something beyond the sentry tower, something beyond the mundane lifestyle that was assigned to her. She sometimes wished that she had the charm and charisma to sleep her way to higher status, like so many of her fellow peasants before her. She was anything but charismatic however, so she spent her cool nights alone.

She often dreamed that she would be swept away by one of the few male visitors—voe—who made it into the desert, spending her time atop the sentry tower simply imagining scenarios in which they come to her door in the dead of night with a handful of golden sand, the traditional Gerudo declaration of love. Yet years went by and no such handsome voe paid her a visit.

The young woman had frizzy red hair and amber-colored eyes—incredibly common traits for the desert people. Her looks were average, and she didn’t have the fighting spirit of the warriors, characteristics she often believed to be why she could not find a lover. For a young girl with a heightened imagination and a tendency toward romanticism, Ezerella found the task of standing atop the tower for hours at a time incredibly boring. 

Although she was generally rather inattentive since she so rarely encountered anyone braving the valley, it was clear that her daydreaming had caught her up in some sort of fantastical reverie. She imagined she saw a lone traveler making his way across the valley, a steed of deep ebony bringing him closer and closer to the mountains bordering the desert. Ezerella couldn’t see his features well enough from that distance, but she did catch sight of his most striking accessory, bringing her straight out of her reverie: a white feather tucked into a band around his head, so large and wispy that Ezerella was sure it had to have belonged to one of the ancient birds given as gifts from the false goddess to her precious Hylians. And it was this feather that made her realize this rider was no daydream.

“Aleira,” Ezerella said, catching the attention of a Gerudo sentry who had just walked by on her rounds. Aleira looked up, red hair burning orange in the glaring sunlight. “Someone rides toward the desert.”

Aleira climbed the ladder that led to Ezerella’s perch and peered out over the ridge. Her eyes squinted against the sun and she shielded them with a thin hand.

“I don’t see anything,” she said.

Ezerella looked back to the rider. “He’s right there.” She pointed. He was advancing swiftly, and Ezerella was certain he was headed for the sentry tower.

“There’s no one there,” Aleira said, turning to leave the outpost. “You should drink more water. The heat is getting to you.”

Ezerella watched incredulously as the other sentry descended and continued her rounds. She turned to watch the rider once more, mouth slightly open as he approached. He was upon the ridge now, skillfully guiding his horse up the twisted mountain pathway toward the tower. Somewhat panicked, Ezerella climbed down the ladder and rushed along the length of the tower, pulling at another idle sentry’s face sash.

“A rider is coming up the ridge,” she said desperately. The sentry gave her a shocked and annoyed look, fixing her sash and moving along. Ezerella moved from sentry to sentry and tried to inform them of the rider, but everyone she interrupted claimed to see nothing.

Something intangible buoyed her steps as she made her way down the immense staircase along the perimeter of the tower. She might very well have been hallucinating, but perhaps the other sentries simply weren’t paying attention. This strange rider was her discovery, and she was going to be the one to stop his advance into their territory.

Finally on ground level, Ezerella rushed around the tower’s base and up to the arch that identified the start of Gerudo territory. The rider was upon it now, and his horse was slowing its gait. Ezerella tied her own sheer sash around her nose and mouth and picked up a glaive that was resting against the wooden wall. 

When the rider dismounted and walked his horse through the gateway, Ezerella got a good look at him. His handsome features suggested he was in his twenties at least, although his hair, long enough to cover one side of his face, was of a shimmering silver that flashed white in the glare of the sun. The cloak around his shoulders was a deep crimson red, shielding a tunic of white and gold from the intense winds. His boots were made of dodongo leather, bleached a pale brown from years of exposure to sunlight. Ezerella had to steel herself. Although she’d dreamed about the handsome voe of the mainland, she’d never actually interacted with them. This was no time for her imagination to get the better of her.

“Hello,” he said, voice deep and yet soft. “Are you a member of the Gerudo people?” He spoke the Gerudo tongue fairly well, and Ezerella narrowed her eyes skeptically.

Eventually, she spoke. “Our leader is very strict on visitors,” she said simply. “You must follow me.” She turned curtly, hoping he would follow her.

The stranger grabbed his horse’s reins and coaxed it through the sand as he followed Ezerella down a side path through the sandy ridge. “What is your name?” he asked.

Everything in Ezerella’s common sense told her to keep silent until they reached the inner city, but her heart seemed to stop for this mysterious man and she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

“Ezerella Loradime,” she answered quietly. “I am a sentry of the Gerudo.”

The man nodded. “I am Link of the West,” he said in response.

Although Ezerella’s expression remained stoic, she smiled inwardly. The name was so common among the Hylians that it had even bled into the Gerudo; some women had named their children Link after the legendary Hero.

But that wasn’t the part of his name that made her speak. “The West?” she said, tone turning inquisitive as she glanced at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean ‘the West’?”

“I mean,” said Link, “west of this place.”

“You came from the east,” Ezerella said.

“I was not born in the east,” said Link. Something shimmered in his eyes, and Ezerella found herself unable to look away. She wanted to point out that there was nothing west of the desert but an endless wastes and ocean, that unless he was born in the waves he couldn’t possibly be from “the west.” But she said nothing as they continued along the path.

“If it would take less time,” Link said after a moment, “we could ride Wrana here to our destination.” He patted his horse’s flank with a charming tenderness.

Ezerella imagined riding behind the visitor, her arms naturally curling around his muscled torso. She had of course hugged women before, and imagined it was an entirely different experience. 

She cleared her throat. “We will ride, but not on your horse.” She glanced sideways at the mare’s beautiful black pelt and ochre eyes. In the sunlight, the horse’s irises glimmered a ruby red.

They rounded a craggy corner were a small stable shielded several horses from the sunlight. Ezerella guided a spotted gray thoroughbred into the open air and mounted with ease. 

“We’ll stick to the mountain path,” she said as Link climbed atop his own horse. “Wrana is probably not used to travelling swiftly across sand.”

While Ezerella was correct in her assumption, the horse fared rather well across the path. The Gerudo found herself trying to test the Hylian—if he even was Hylian—in his equestrian abilities, having her mount gallop at full speed during difficult sections of the path. Wrana was always able to keep up, however, and the two riders made it across the desert in short time. 

As they slowed, Link pulled up beside his guide. “Is that your city?” He nodded toward the immense site before them, a tall fortress constructed of adobe bricks and wooden posts. Thin red flags fluttered in the sandy wind atop every possible point. Gerudo guards and warriors brimmed the walls like Lanayru ants skittering atop an abandoned pastry.

“No,” Ezerella said beneath a veiled grin. “That is Gerudo Fortress. We will go around it.”

As they directed their horses around the perimeter of the fortress, a sentry watched Ezerella closely. She wondered why no one questioned her about the mysterious stranger following her, but they only seemed to notice her existence. For a fearful moment Ezerella wondered if this Link were only a figment of her imagination, and she cast an anxious glance at him. He returned her look with a polite smile, and she felt her apprehension dissipate into the sandy breeze.

The city was not too far beyond the fortress, visible even through the billowing sands. The walls stood tall and proud, and the palace spires poked up from within, shimmering red and gold mosaics adorning them. Dyed cloths draped from the palace to the surrounding buildings, gently shifting in the breeze. Ezerella hadn’t seen other cities, not really, but she knew that even if she had, she’d still think that of the Gerudo was the most beautiful one in existence.

They walked their horses up to the main gate of the city and were stopped by a guard. When Ezerella saw that once again the visitor had gone unnoticed, she played along. She said she was returning from her shift at the sentry tower. The guard let them through.

“Remarkable,” Link breathed from behind her. She pulled her sash down to rest on her shoulders and allowed a grin to curl her lips. His eyes were on the scene before them, the Gerudo bazaar. The center was buzzing with activity: women washing their clothes in the collective basins; women selling all kinds of produce and delicacies at their respective market stalls; women strolling the stone pathways wearing the most colorful garments, golden jewelry tying back their fire-colored hair. There were even a few guards patrolling the area, narrow eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary—all of them women.

“What’s remarkable?” Ezerella said teasingly, watching as Link’s eyes trailed the movement of a belly dancer’s body while another woman played a pair of bongos beside her.

Link laughed as if he’d just been told a mild joke. “The Gerudo,” he said. “You’re all women.”

It was the truth. Although no one could explicitly state how it had come to be, the Gerudo people were all women. Their elders and shamans claimed that an ancient evil cursed their race to die out gradually and miserably, providing them with one male descendant every hundred years. But as time passed the Gerudo took interracial breeding over going entirely extinct. The people of the mainland often clung to the stereotype that the Gerudo women captured their male counterparts, did their business, and then exiled the men into the hot, dry desert with no food or water for them to wander helplessly to their deaths. But the validity of these stereotypes was questionable, since not many people dared venture anywhere near the Gerudo Desert who hoped to live to tell the tale. The phenomenon remained however, and every single time a Gerudo woman became pregnant from an outside lover, the child was a girl.

“Hey!” Ezerella looked up to see a guard approaching them. For the first time she saw another person’s eyes land on the stranger beside her. “What’s going on here?”

“A visitor from the east,” Ezerella said, staring as confidently as possible at the guard.

“Did the chief approve his entry?” said the guard, eyeing Link suspiciously.

“Yes,” said Ezerella. “I’m taking him to the Ralzana.”

The guard looked between them for another moment before stepping aside. But as soon as they passed the threshold into the city, Link went back to being marginally unnoticed by everyone.

“Taking me to the ‘Ralzana’?” Link said as they guided their horses across the cobbled street toward a wide, wooden stable. “Should I feel honored?”

Ezerella let the woman in charge of the stable take her horse’s reins. “All visitors—especially voe—are to be taken directly to Ralzana Koume,” she said. “You should feel honored that I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Link said as he led Wrana into an unoccupied stall and pulled a carrot from a saddlebag. “Why?”

“Because you’re different, Link of the West,” Ezerella said. She watched the stranger’s expression turn from one of puzzlement to one of mischief.

“You could get in trouble,” he said.

“I chose my companion well, I see,” said the Hylian, grinning down at Ezerella. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but she remained silent, smiling up at him through pale amber eyes. She finally got a good look at his and saw that they were such a dark gray they appeared black. But what stood out under the shade of the stable were his pupils. They reflected the light around them like a cat’s eyes, hints of red and orange coating the metallic-looking surface. Ezerella could have sworn that they held fire within them.

“Come with me,” she said, turning quickly away from his gaze. 

“If you’re not taking me to the Ralzana,” said Link, “then where are you taking me?”

“You’ll need somewhere to stay, won’t you?” Ezerella didn’t look back to see the strange man react to her words. She left the horses behind at the stable and hoped he was following. “What exactly is your business in the desert?”

“I’m a traveler,” he said. “And throughout my travels I’ve heard many stories about the grand Gerudo Desert.”

Ezerella smirked. “I wonder which ones.”

They passed through a small arched entrance to a slightly declined pathway, right past the district’s overseer. Ezerella looked up at Link. He stood several inches taller than her and she felt some unknown feeling curl its way down her arms and back. She’d never felt anything like this before, and it frightened her immensely.

“Oh, I’ve heard so many,” said Link. “Several of them, I’m sure, are truthful. But there is one that brought me to the desert. Sadly, I don’t know too many details. I was hoping you could tell it to me.”

Ezerella smiled down at her sandaled feet as they made their way down the slight decline, down a few scantily-paved steps, down into the “barrows,” the neighborhood where poorer Gerudo women spent most of their lives. She didn’t know what story he was talking about, but she probably knew it by heart. If lower-class Gerudo held dominion over anything, it was the wonderful realm of storytelling. Such an art was seen as unnecessary and irrelevant, so while the higher class educated themselves with magic and arithmetic, those of the communal wash houses entertained themselves with folk tales.

“I can,” said Ezerella, still avoiding eye contact with the man. “But we should wait for the safety of a private place. Eyes and ears are everywhere, and I don’t want to risk looking like I’ve gone mad talking to myself.”

She heard Link laugh beside her. “I look forward to it,” he said.

As they strode further into the barrows, its muddied colors began to show. Children, the only ones in the area since few men bothered with the women of the slums, huddled around a bucket of scum-lined water, splashing it on their faces just to stay cool. The buildings were not made of sturdy adobe clay but of rotted wood and shambling stones, eroded by the harsh desert climate. It appeared as if the whole area hadn’t been maintained in years.

But Link said nothing as they continued on toward her residence. It wasn’t on the main stretch of road, but behind a group of apartments and up some incredibly narrow steps. At the top she opened an unlocked wooden door and hurried Link inside.

There was nothing inside the single room but a small hearth and bedroll. As soon as the door was closed, Ezerella crouched by the hearth and looked up at Link.

“You cannot tell anyone of what you are about to see,” she said. Link gave her a bemused look and sat down by the fire.

Ezerella turned toward the ashes, over which a small pot hung with some leftover stew still inside. She held a hand up to her lips as if she were telling a secret and whispered the words: “Mahora hriasha.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a small flame ignited from the ashes and cast a warm glow over the room. Ezerella turned to Link, whose eyes were wide with amused shock, and for a moment watched how the light flickered across his pale skin. She’d never seen such pale skin before.

“You can perform magic?” said Link.

“Only a little bit. I was never allowed to practice officially, but it’s always been a talent of mine.”

“I think that’s wonderful.” Link’s black eyes once again flickered like fire, but Ezerella only assumed it to be a reflection of the now burning hearth. 

After a moment, she sat down on her bedroll, legs crossed beneath her, and smiled at Link. “Which story do you want to know?”

Link sat with his shins folded beneath him, hands resting on his lap as he gazed into the fire. “Several days ago, I heard a name,” he said. “I know that doesn’t sound at all like reason to brave the harsh Lanayru Desert, but it struck deep intrigue in my mind. The name was Ganon.”

Ezerella’s back straightened slightly, but a taut smile still adorned her face. “Where did you hear that name?” she said.

“In passing,” said Link. “I don’t think I was supposed to be listening. But I heard the man speak of Ganon, the mighty King of the Desert. I couldn’t imagine it to be true, since I’d also heard that the Gerudo are all women.”

“Ganon was a king, a Ralzan.” Ezerella looked at the burning hearth, eyes glossing over as she remembered the tale. “The story says that he was the last Ralzan the Gerudo have ever known, and that it was because of his remarkable deeds that a jealous witch cast a curse on our people. The story is not considered history, however, merely the fable of entertainers. Would you still like to hear it?”

Link nodded.

“This desert was not always dead and dry,” Ezerella continued. “Most of the coastline was once under the water, bordered by lush greenery and animal life. It was such a paradise of life that even the minerals found within the earth had innate magical properties—properties my ancestors harnessed to become powerful sorcerers. Among those sorcerers was the Ralzan and his family. He had a pair of twins: a daughter named Irane and a son named Ganon.

“Ganon was a bright young boy with a keen intellect and great curiosity. He quickly became an adored heir to the Ralzan’s throne, and he in turn wished to bring prosperity to his people.  
“His sister Irane, however, also wished to rule their people and did not know why her twin brother should become ruler instead of her. She was also a proficient user of magic and felt she was strong enough in will to lead. She was so jealous of the priority that was given to Ganon that she sought to get rid of him. She found a transfiguration spell in a black book that was supposed to turn any creature into a horrible, vicious beast. 

“So Irane crept into Ganon’s room one night and recited the spell. However, she was still a young sorcerer, regardless of her inherent skill. When she cast it, it transformed him into a beast only until the sun rose in the sky. Still, Irane was satisfied with such a curse—no Ralzan could rule as a vicious, hideous beast.

“When the Ralzan discovered that their son was cursed, they tried to keep it a secret. And even though Ganon was still a revered prince, the curse plagued him and his family each night, when his tan skin gave way to shaggy black fur, his nose and mouth to a long snout and thick, lengthy tusks. Whenever the Ralzan and Ralzana could not keep it constrained within the palace dungeon, the beast rampaged through the lush region like a wild animal. It plowed through fields of crops, turning the produce to ash beneath its hooves; every green thing it touched dissolved into sand. It devoured the animals and even drank from the salty ocean until it had drained it to near oblivion. Even the minerals that once held mysterious magic within them were nullified as soon as it passed by, for it was cruel lifelessness in the form of a beast.

“But the people of this dying paradise, through all the terror they felt every night, had no idea the beast was actually their beloved Ralzan prince. And no one except for Irane knew it was his sister’s own doing.

“As Ganon grew older he refused to let this beast control his body when the sun set. He knew that as Ralzan he could not allow such a curse to plague his people. So he went to Irane, by now a powerful user of magic, and asked her if she could somehow rid him of the curse.

“Irane saw an opportunity. She could pretend to be curing him, when actually she could rid the valley of him once and for all. She agreed, and got to work finding a spell that would discreetly kill her brother.

“Eventually she found a spell of separation meant to cure wolfos and were-creatures. She figured that she could separate the beast from Ganon’s body, and that it would simply devour him in its insatiable appetite. She mentioned the plan to Ganon and he agreed, willing to do anything to rid the land of this curse.

“Irane performed the spell successfully, right as the sun was beginning to set and twilight fell upon the region. Before Ganon transformed, an intense dark mist emerged from his body and formed into the beast. It stared down its brother of blood with an incredible might, already marking him as its prey. But Ganon, just as powerful a sorcerer as Irane, summoned a pure blade of light in order to vanquish this harbinger of death. The gods granted him this power, and the blade materialized in his hands. Just as the beast launched itself toward Ganon, he plunged the sword deep into its chest, spreading bright white cracks all throughout its body from the wound. It let out a horrendous roar before dissipating into black mist once more, blowing away in the wind.

“The people of the valley rejoiced. The beast had caused incredible destruction, and the land had since turned into a barren wasteland, but they trusted their powerful new Ralzan to lead them to a prosperous future. 

“It was only then that Irane screamed in frustration, revealing her true intentions. She was so furious that her brother had managed to overcome her curse with such ease that she cast another curse, one that would guarantee his reign to lead to ultimate downfall: the eradication of their entire people. She cursed Ganon’s lovers, and all lovers after them, to never again bear any sons. The people of the once-lush region would die out slowly and miserably.

“Of course, Ganon exiled his sister into the newly-created wasteland and assured his people that no matter what curse any witch cast on his people, he would give his life to serve and protect them.”

Ezerella smiled, watching Link’s face in the dimming light. His eyes had clouded over as he listened, and she loved the effect the firelight had on them. “There is an amendment to the story,” she said, “that because of Ganon’s selfless leadership, a new Ralzan will eventually be born. But there hasn’t been one in centuries, so I’m sure no one believes such a myth.”

“Do you?” Link said. His eyes were now on her, watching her every move carefully.

“Well it’s just a story,” said Ezerella. “Even the old witches who tell such tales don’t believe them to be true.” She hoped she was at least mildly convincing, but something told her in the way Link smirked that he could see through everything, right into her very soul.

“It’s a wonderful tale,” Link said. “Although I wonder why a city of women would place so much renown in a male ruler, even one of legend.”

“Some say that Irane was actually Ganon’s brother with the name Iranon,” said Ezerella. “Others claim Ganon was indeed a woman named Gana. But it is most often told with a brother and sister. I think people like it because it gives them hope of change. Regardless of what you believe, no civilization can flourish when it’s only half a people.”

Link smiled widely at her. “How very right you are.”

Ezerella looked from his deep, reflective eyes and back to the fire within the hearth. She felt her skin tingle with chills and her heart pounding, as twilight fell over the valley.


	3. The Birth of a King II

Saria leaned over the small blossom with an inquisitive expression, releasing a slight “hmm.” The blossom was peeking out of a swaddle of green leaves, its tiny pink petals reaching out timidly for the sunlight it would never acquire under the heavy blanket of twilight. It vaguely resembled a Deku flower, one of the cunning hiding places of Deku tribe. It had grown—seemingly overnight—in one of the meadows of the Kokiri Forest, a mysterious maze-like ground known to the forest people as the Lost Woods.

“It appears to be a young flower,” Saria said, placing her hands on her hips.

A wave of anxious whispers flowed through the crowd surrounding her. What puzzled the Kokiri the most was that the Lost Woods, and most of Kokiri Forest in general, was known for an extremely curious and perplexing trait: it was timeless. Once anyone stepped foot into the underbrush of the Kokiri's domain, the individual’s body clock ceased and all of time remained trapped in a halted state. Years could pass outside the thick perimeter, but only seconds seemed to pass within. It put the Kokiri in a curious position, who never left the forest and seemed to never age. It was incredibly bewildering to even the most renowned of Hylian scholars, but nothing could be said for the forest's timeless existence. As dissatisfied as Saria was with this answer, it simply was how things were.

So here lay the question that was puzzling Saria so greatly: what was this blossom doing here? There hadn’t been one in that exact spot before, not even a bud. Once the seasons stopped and time seemed to slow down, blossoms never occurred anymore since the wind never sang through the trees and the flowers never died.

“Now I don’t want anyone to panic,” Saria said, turning to face the crowd of disconcerted people. Her short bob of green hair glinted in the dappled light, the teal headband of an apothecary marking her role of healer and soothsayer. “Listen to me. This is a blossom, and it is nothing to fear. I’d like you all to return to your daily business and not to worry.” She finished her speech with a warm smile, clasping her hands together. The Kokiri muttered their satisfied acceptance and dispersed, gradually leaving the labyrinth of tall shrubbery and overgrown underbrush.

From the disappearing crowd, the Kokiri leader, Mido, stepped forward and approached Saria with a solemn expression on his face. “Walk with me?” he asked quietly.

Saria looked up at him gravely as they turned from the blossom toward the wall of trees that surrounded the village. They stepped through the underbrush, arms linked together. “We mustn’t look into it,” said the girl distractedly. 

“Does it have anything to do with your visions?” said Mido. He was of course referring to the restless nights Saria spent dreaming about the Great Deku Tree, the eternal, spiritual being that fathered and protected the Kokiri and the whole forest, cracking and withering into dust and ash beneath a wall of fire.

“Nothing is dying here,” Saria said, looking ahead as they walked, “merely growing.”

“But growth is accompanied by death,” Mido said, jaw set.

“A blossom in the woods has nothing to do with fire,” said Saria. “Perhaps we should be looking at it as a good omen against death.”

Mido did not seem convinced. He used his free hand to adjust the green cap atop his yellow-haired head. Suddenly he said, “Do you think any of them know?”

Saria didn’t need clarification. She and Mido were the only Kokiri who had a strong sense of the forest’s timelessness. They’d thought of it as a blessing, a gift of deathlessness from the spirits of life. But it wasn’t just immortality—it was the complete and utter halt of change, of life itself. And since she was aware of it, she could feel time dragging at the edges of the forest, pulling it and thrashing against its trunks as if it were trying to break through such an anomaly. Saria and Mido felt time pass in a timeless place. She hadn’t realized at the time that their shared burden would be what brought them so close together.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s not their duty to know.” She looked at him, green eyes wrought with worry. “We can’t tell them, Mido.”

“I know,” he said. “But if the forest does start dying…” He took a deep breath upon saying those words. “They’ll be so…lost.”

Saria gazed at the trees that towered above them. They weren’t particularly tall trees; the Kokiri had the strange trait of being about a child’s height to an average person. Not only that—they even looked like children, with soft round features and large eyes. Most of them acted like children too, Saria thought. She had seen human children, and adults, wandering in the forest at times. The children would want to go exploring in the Lost Woods, chasing after some tiny spirit they saw in the corner of their eye, but the adults would relentlessly pull them away. Most other Kokiri didn’t have any reference though, so they had no idea they anything even existed outside the forest.

“We should wait,” said Saria, words partitioned carefully, “for the Great Tree to send a sign. When it is time for the Kokiri to leave, we will know.”

Mido wasn’t satisfied, but he stopped walking and turned to Saria with a calm expression. “I’ll trust you,” he said. “But we need to be hyperaware of any miniscule change in the forest. Take note of everything.”

Saria nodded. She looked up to see the large, overgrown building they’d stopped in front of: a grand castle of stone that used to serve as a temple and home to a whole family of strange beings. All she knew about them was that they were gone, and this castle had since become an abandoned, eerie structure. It seemed to feel out of place in the forest, and not just for its high towers and regal atmosphere. No, there was something strange about it that Saria could not place.

“Have you ever been inside?” she asked suddenly.

Mido looked up to follow her gaze. The entrance was high above the ground and virtually unreachable; it looked as if there used to be stairs leading up to it, but they’d been destroyed by some unknown force long ago. 

“No,” he said. “Have you?”

Saria shook her head. “I don’t think anyone’s been inside for ages.”

Mido laughed. “That means nothing within the forest’s boundaries.”

“I know,” she said, still looking at the temple entrance. It looked like a gaping mouth, with nothing but darkness within. “But maybe if we knew, we’d have more answers.”

“Maybe.” Mido turned to head back to the village. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Saria took another moment to watch the temple, almost certain something was watching her back. 

She finally turned to follow him back through the trees.

Upon reentering Kokiri Village, Saria felt the unease of her recent discovery drift away. She loved the way Kokiri Village looked under the blanket of eternal twilight. The leaves were a dark teal, slightly illuminated by the soft glows from windows carved into the trunks of enormous trees. Starry fireflies fluttered around the beautified creek that twisted its way through the trunks, fairy lanterns guiding it straight to the Sacred Grove. Several rock gardens seemed to come alive under the flickering light of the woodland fairies that accompanied every Kokiri villager, gifts from the Great Tree himself. Saria couldn’t help pausing before she climbed the ladder up to the higher tier of the village, where a network of wooden bridges connected treehome to treehome. She closed her eyes momentarily and breathed in the scent of the magical place in which she lived—sweet rosewater and the constant aroma of trees right after rain. She opened her eyes and turned to the ladder while Mido continued on the ground, heading across the gracefully curved wooden bridge and over to the community house where villagers could speak with him about any concerns they had. Saria had to return to her apothecary’s hut.

The hut, like most other Kokiri abodes, was carved straight into the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree, several oblong windows giving her a view of the ground below. Ledges for a bed and worktable, along with multiple shelves full of herbs and spices lined the circular wall, displaying expert craftsmanship. The only moveable pieces were the tools and single wooden chair, not to mention the leaves that made up the bedding and clothing.

Saria stepped inside and patted the edge of the small lantern in which Tera slept noiselessly. Even while fairies slept they emitted a glow so intense that one could not pick out their individual features, but it was still not quite as bright as when they were awake. Besides, Saria needed her help.

“What? I’m awake.” The tiny fairy jolted up into the air, out of the lantern-home. She shook with a faint jingling sound, dragonfly-wings beating the air to stay afloat. “What is it, Saria?”

The apothecary sat down on the wooden stool by the ledge that jutted out from the round wall of the treehome. She motioned for Tera to rest back down on the surface.

“There is a new blossom in the Lost Woods,” she said.

Tera’s wings drooped downward as she landed. “You mean... a brand new one?” she said somberly.

Saria nodded. She watched her fairy companion contemplate for a moment.

Finally Tera sighed. “It seems it may be time to pay the Great Tree a visit.” 

Saria looked down at her hands. She had always known due to the nature of their first meeting that the fairy was keeping vital information from her. While she was eternally grateful for the Great Deku Tree’s gift, it arrived without cause. Still, she trusted the Forest Father’s judgment over anything else, including Mido, and did not question it.

“Will he tell me why I’ve been having nightmares of the forest burning?” Saria said in a hushed voice. 

“I can’t say,” said Tera, fluttering up to meet Saria’s emerald eyes. “But I do know that everything will become clear to you soon.”

Saria sighed. “I’ll go see the Great Deku Tree after I get some sleep,” she said. “Will you come with?”

Tera bobbed up and down in affirmation. “Of course.”

Saria stood back up and pulled the headband from her hair. She changed into a more comfortable dress and curled up under the blanket of leaves on the ledge that served as her bed. She couldn’t help the feeling of nervousness that had begun to accompany her sleep routine. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of fire and darkness filled her mind. But she hadn’t been getting enough rest lately, so she had to try.

Again Saria’s dreams took her to the Sacred Grove, but this time no flames danced around the wildflowers—like Deku scrubs performing a sacrificial ritual.   
The Great Deku Tree loomed before her, his gnarled branches seemingly enveloping her in a solid embrace. She could almost see a face carved from the wood of his trunk, something she’d never seen before. As she watched, the face’s mouth gradually opened and the Forest Father let out a cracking groan. From the mouth emerged wisps of darkness that smelled of rotting leaves and turned the air around Saria black. Skulltulas with their snapping mandibles and unnatural bonelike carapaces crept from within, followed shortly after by what appeared to be a woman. Her pale naked body was wrapped tightly in the wisps of darkness and she seemed to be running from something. Her yellow hair was gradually turning black as the wisps clawed at her face. Eventually she shouted, voice layered with multiple tones, crying out for help.

Saria awoke with a start to see her little fairy bobbing above her head. She was jingling in what Saria could only assume was anxiousness.

“Saria!” Tera chimed. “Saria, wake up!”

Saria sat up slowly, holding a hand to her forehead. It was sleek with cold sweat. “I’m okay.”

Tera’s jingling calmed. “You were having another nightmare, weren’t you?”

After a moment of shallow breathing, the Kokiri girl groaned into her palms. She was certain she would never feel the comfort of a deep, undisturbed sleep ever again. 

“Give me a moment,” Saria said. “Then we’ll go to the Sacred Grove.” She tucked her green hair behind her lightly pointed ears.

The fairy bobbed up and down and fluttered out of one of the carved windows in the treehome.

Saria got out of bed and threw on a green dress and brown slippers before heading out of the little hut. She climbed back down the ladder to the forest floor, Tera bobbing quickly after her. She nodded in brief greeting to the Kokiri she passed, and was thankful to find that most of them were retiring to their homes for some rest. That meant no one would be praying in the Sacred Grove. She was also grateful that Mido still seemed to be inside the community house, dealing with a villager request. She didn’t want to worry him with her new vision, one not of flame but of shadow.

Past an ornate arch carved of pale wood and decorated with hanging vines and wildflowers lay the entrance to the Sacred Grove. Lichen draped from the branches and fell like hair into the stream, forming a fringed curtain. Tera slipped silently between strands, leaving a trail of blue dust behind. Saria stepped into the shallow water, the only way to enter the grove. She brushed aside the lichen and continued forward to see the Great Deku Tree standing tall before her. Its thick, twisting branches reached out over the entirety of the grove, connecting almost seamlessly with the trees surrounding it. Its massive roots twisted into the pool of water that surrounded it, although sometimes Saria thought the water was actually coming from the tree, the great benefactor of all life in the forest. It looked like some kind of mountainous god, and even with the many times she’d witnessed its magnificence, she still felt the inexorable need to fall to her knees, hands pressed against the damp soil. She bowed her head respectfully, closing her eyes.

“Your nightmare must have been terrible,” Tera said beside her.

Saria didn’t say anything in response. She looked upward and cried in the biggest voice she could muster, “Great Deku Tree! Giver of life and guardian of the forest!” After a momentary pause of anxiety, as well as a search for the right words, she continued, “What is happening to the forest?”

There was no response. There never was, Saria thought. She believed the Great Deku Tree was not just an ordinary tree, if only for the sublime sense of awe that accompanied its presence. Yet it was in this moment of panic, weighed down by the feeling of intolerable helplessness, that Saria entertained the notion of how absurd she must have looked talking to a tree.

Then something changed. The air around the Kokiri girl lightened, as if she hadn’t before noticed just how heavy it was. The leaves of the Great Deku Tree seemed to glisten and rustle with light and laughter, the sound of a million woodland fairies whispering to each other.

Saria looked at Tera. “Do you feel that?” she said quietly, but the fairy’s attention seemed fixated on the tree. Saria gazed at it too until the leaves glowed brighter and brighter, turning white with magical light.

“Darkness is in the forest’s future,” came an authoritative yet gentle voice, that of a much older female. Saria had never heard anything so…graceful. 

Then the very bark seemed to come alive. It twisted and molded into the shape of a beautiful woman, emerging from the intertwined branches of the tree. Her skin pearled over, but long vines still kept her attached to the tree. She had long green hair that turned to ivy as it fell down her back and wrapped around the bark behind her, matching with the foliage that covered her body. She was three times the size of Saria, and had a misty haze about her that made the Kokiri question whether or not she was a physical being. Unlike the fairies that now swarmed Kokiri Village, this beautiful woman had no wings, nor intense emission of light.

Saria wasn’t entirely sure what she was seeing. “You’re the spirit of the Great Deku Tree?” she said.

The woman let out a laugh that sounded like the chatter of fairies, only with the elegance and distance of a giant bell chiming in a faraway land.

“The Great Deku Tree merely accepted and welcomed me into his sanctuary,” the woman answered. “I am Maia, the Great Fairy of Courage, and I watch over your forest.”

Saria could barely move her lips, let alone her eyes from the woman’s lithe, slender body. “A Great Fairy?” she finally managed to croak.

Another laugh from the Great Fairy sounded through the glade. With each peel Saria felt her wearying concern dissipate. “Listen to you, like an echo off a cavern wall,” said the Great Fairy. “A long, long time ago, I was given guardianship over this forest. I met the Great Deku Tree, whose spirit was and still is the wisest and kindest I’ve ever known. I made my home within in his wooded sanctuary, and he and I have been watching over this forest ever since.” As Maia spoke, she floated gracefully closer to the Great Deku Tree and brushed a tender hand along its surface.

“The woodland fairies,” Maia continued, “were actually a gift from me. A way to more closely protect the Kokiri as the children of this wonderful, magical forest.”

Saria looked at the Great Fairy, and then to Tera who was still fluttering above her head. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

Tera bobbed timidly in the air. “I am a child of the Great Fairy,” she said. “Yes, I knew.”

“Do not blame your friend, little one,” said Maia with a maternal expression. “It was I who told my children not to reveal my presence to the Kokiri. I did not want to steal your hearts away from the Great Deku Tree.”

Saria looked down at her slippers, brow lifted in mild astonishment. When she looked back up, she said, “If you’ve been here all this time, why are you telling me all this now?”

Maia grinned widely, her mossy green eyes glittering with the wisdom of an immortal entity. “Who do you think has been sending you all those visions?”

“It was you?” Saria said. She could not hide the note of despair in her voice. “Why?”

“Of course it did not please me to put you through such pain, but you are the only one I could talk to. The forest is cursed, little one. Timelessness is not something to treasure, as I’m sure you know. With death comes growth, and the birth of new things.”

Saria thought about the blossom in the Lost Woods. “But in my dreams, the forest, the Great Deku Tree… All of it is burned down. There’s nothing left. Death of that scale would surely destroy everything, including the Kokiri.”

“The visions are not meant to warn you of the forest’s death,” said Maia. “They are a premonition of the dangers that can accompany change.” The Great Fairy descended from the tree, hovering in the air until she was just above Saria’s head. “A new age is dawning in this world. That is why it is necessary for the forest to die, and for new things to grow in its place. I know this fate is unnerving, and that it is a difficult one to keep on your conscience. But you must not fret over its inevitability. It is required in order for the world to be in balance.”

“Then why me? Why send the visions to me, and what do they mean?” said Saria.

The Great Fairy seemed to don an expression of sympathy. “You have a far greater purpose than you know, little one,” she said. “You pray to the Great Deku Tree for guidance and protection, but it is you who must guide and protect the forest in the coming age. The time of its demise is encroaching sooner than expected, however. That is what your dreams tell you. The forest must live a little longer, or else it will become corrupted and nothing new will come of it.”

Saria took a deep breath. A greater purpose? What was Maia talking about? She had so many questions, and she knew that the Great Fairy probably wouldn’t or couldn’t answer them all. So she picked out the one that most certainly needed answering.

“What do I do?” she said.

Maia moved to lay down on nothing, still buoyed by the air. “Music has always pleased the gods,” she said. “And in the new age that is dawning, it will rule the skies.” The Great Fairy waved a hand through the air, conjuring up a small wooden item. “Fashioned from the bark of the Great Deku Tree, I grant you this ocarina, Saria of the Kokiri.”

Saria took the ocarina from the ethereal being’s hands, eyeing it closely. It was smooth and oblong in shape, with several holes etched into the round surface. “How do I play it?”

“There is a song you must learn,” said Maia, returning to her perch in the branches of the Great Tree. “It was stored away within your heart from the moment you set foot on the ground, and can ebb the death of the forest. You must search for it, little one. You will know where to find it. But know that when it is time for you to pass on your ocarina to someone important to you, it is time for the forest to die.”

Saria looked up at the fading entity of the Great Fairy. “How will I know? Great Fairy, please, how will I know when to pass on the ocarina, and how will I learn how to play the song?”

Maia paused, turning to flash a smile at the Kokiri. “The forest will guide you, little one, as you harbor a wise spirit.” And with that, the Great Fairy let out a peeling laugh and vanished within the Forest Father.

Saria gazed down at the wooden ocarina in her small hands. Each and every word Maia had said clung to her skin like tree sap. What made Saria so special that she had to carry the life of the forest in her hands? She had no idea how to play, but she knew that in order to save the forest she would at least have to try.

“The Great Fairy is right,” Tera said quietly, fluttering by Saria’s ear. “The death of the forest may be frightening, but it is inevitable.”

“I know,” Saria whispered, holding the ocarina to her chest. She wanted to say more; she had so many questions swirling around in her mind like soup. But the instrument in her hands was the only answer she had for the time being. And it hummed with the making of a thousand new questions in the Kokiri girl’s head.

“Let’s head back,” said Tera. “I’m sure Mido will want to know.”

“No,” Saria said quickly, still gazing at the Great Deku Tree where Maia had disappeared into its bark. “The Great Fairy entrusted me with this burden. I don’t want to make Mido’s life harder by sharing it with him.”

And with that she tucked the ocarina away into a pouch and stepped into the stream of water that led back to the main village. As she left, she still heard the laughter of the Great Fairy echoing around the Sacred Grove, an ethereal bell ringing into the endless twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you worry, Saria doesn't stay with Mido.


End file.
